


When the clouds clear, we'll be standing here

by roselew



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Angst, Self-Harm, accidental self harm is more accurate, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 08:53:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2103231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roselew/pseuds/roselew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He cares about Abed. A lot. That’s exactly why he selfishly wants to avoid acknowledging the fact that Abed might not be okay. He’d much rather live in ignorance. </p><p>He doesn’t want to think about what kind of person that makes him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the clouds clear, we'll be standing here

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the following prompts on Tumblr:
> 
>  
> 
> "Shit, are you bleeding?!" and "I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere."

**one**  - Three days after Troy leaves, Jeff notices Abed scratching at the backs of his hands. They’re all studying in silence, and Jeff catches the movement out of the corner of his eye when he looks up from his textbook.

He does it lightly enough that it’s barely even noticeable, absently scratching at his knuckles until Britta distractedly lays a hand over his to stop him. He glances at her curiously, before looking down to his hands. Jeff wonders if Abed even realised what he’d been doing. 

He presses his palms flat to the table either side of his textbook. Jeff glances up, occasionally, and can’t help the spark of concern he feels each time Abed’s fingers twitch before he has a chance to still them again. 

 **two**  - They’re alone, the rest of the group taking a bathroom break during yet another intense study session. Jeff’s looking at his phone, but he can hear the faint drag of Abed’s nails over his skin. 

He hasn’t talked about it. He doesn’t  _want_  to talk about it. For some reason it feels like it’s a conversation that could stray into a territory that he doesn’t want to be a part of - the same territory as his own issues with self-image and Annie’s drug addiction. It feels personal enough that it might just make Abed uncomfortable, and that’s a level of intimacy Jeff never thinks he’ll be prepared for. 

He cares about Abed. A lot. That’s exactly why he selfishly wants to avoid acknowledging the fact that Abed might not be okay. He’d much rather live in ignorance.

He doesn’t want to think about what kind of person that makes him. 

 **three**  - Jeff looks up from his test paper every few seconds, peers down to the front of the classroom, and watches. 

Abed’s still scratching. Even now, with his attention focused on the test questions, he’s clawing at his skin - regular, circular movements that seem more habitual than they are destructive. Jeff looks back to his paper, frowning, but can’t make sense of the words on the page. 

He wishes, suddenly, that Troy was here. As much as they all love Abed, none of them really get him like Troy did. He regrets that he never spent as much time with Abed as he wanted to - regrets that he’s too shallow to make sure Abed’s fine. He’s sure that he isn’t. 

And at the end of the day, something as small as this shouldn’t have bothered Jeff as much as it was, he tells himself. Abed had assured them that he was fine, and Jeff was too happy to accept it for his own sake, but some small, traitorous part of him reminded him that this wasn’t normal ‘Abed’ behaviour. 

Jeff scribbles out an incorrect answer with more aggression than is strictly necessary, and looks up again. Abed’s writing, one hand holding his pen, the other tucked stubbornly up his sleeve, fabric fisted at the wrist as if to prevent escape.

Jeff feels tired. He takes a long breath, squeezes the pen in his grip. 

He was going to talk to him.

 **four**  - Jeff doesn’t have a chance to talk to him.

He caught up with Abed on the way out of his last class - Thursday, 4pm, weaving through the crowds of over-tired students to get to Abed’s side. He falls into step with him, a little out of breath, and sends a smile his way. 

"Hey, Abed." He says, and Abed looks up. His lips tilt, eyes soft, and it’s as close to a smile as Jeff’s seen from him recently. 

"Hi, Jeff." He looks away, then, and falls silent, and Jeff’s gaze goes to Abed’s hands by default. He’s not scratching - his sleeves are pulled down over his knuckles, possibly out of some stubborn desire to control his fingers. 

"So, I was thinking-" Jeff begins, then pauses, mouth suddenly dry. Abed looks at him - a quick dart of his eyes, and Jeff watches as they flicker away, heart a pounding ache in his chest. 

"Shit, Abed… are you  _bleeding_?”

Abed falters in his step, barely noticeably, and wraps his fingers around his wrist. There’s dark red beneath his fingernails, and a long, bright streak of scarlet on the white sleeve over his wrist-bone. 

"Oh." Abed says, a fake echo of surprise. He doesn’t look down, continues walking straight ahead. Jeff swallows, can feel the pinch of his brows and wishes he didn’t look so concerned, wishes he didn’t feel sick with guilt or regret or maybe just worry. 

Abed’s walking quickly, though, eyes bright and shining, and Jeff doesn’t want to break him. Abed’s fingers drum against his wrist, tapping in sequence and Jeff wishes he would stop. The temptation to take Abed’s hands in his own and force him is overwhelming, but he doesn’t. 

"Okay." He says, gently, and he doesn’t know why. A muscle jumps in Abed’s jaw. "Okay." He says again, and slows, lets Abed hurry away like he had obviously been wanting to. 

Jeff goes to his car. Everything feels muted and distant, and he pinches the bridge of his nose, sighs around the heavy feeling in his throat. 

He doesn’t know what to do about this, and that scares him.

 **five**  - Abed is absent the next day. 

Shirley and Britta ask Annie where he is - she says he’s not feeling well. He’s spending the day in bed. She smiles, Britta and Shirley make sympathetic sounds and go back to their conversation.

Jeff catches Annie’s eyes across the table and her smile falters, lips softening in the way they do when she’s about to cry. Her fingers drift to her opposite wrist and rest there for a moment, and Jeff looks away. 

Annie notices much more than he gives her credit for. 

 **six**  - Abed turns up at Jeff’s apartment at 4pm the next day, worrying his fingers together when Jeff opens the door. Jeff wonders if the dark, tired circles under Abed’s eyes are a recent development, or if he just hasn’t looked closely enough before. He steps away from the door, holding it wide open. 

"Come on in, Abed." He says, and Abed does, avoiding Jeff’s gaze like it hurts, hovering uneasily for a moment before sitting on the couch, palms pressed flat to his thighs. Jeff sits beside him, and the silence stretches - thick and uncomfortable. Jeff drags his fingers restlessly through his hair and speaks first. Breaking the silence is nearly as awkward as the silence itself. 

"Are you okay, Abed, really?" He asks, carefully, and sees Abed’s fingers twitch. 

"I don’t know." Says Abed, voice soft. "I thought so." He curls his fingers into fists and pauses. Jeff waits. 

"I didn’t mean to do it." He says, like he’s waiting for Jeff to blame him, like he’s resigned himself to that inevitability. "It just happened. I miss Troy and I guess…this makes me feel better." He rubs his thumb over the knob of his wrist, like he’s demonstrating. Jeff watches the innocent movement with suspicion that he knows is unfair. 

He clears his throat quietly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks, and Abed shrugs. 

"There’s not much to talk about." He says, and meets Jeff’s gaze for the first time. "I just…I don’t want to be left alone." He admits, and Jeff can understand, at least a little bit. 

He offers Abed a smile that feels unnatural.

"Hey, I’m here." He says. He means it to be comforting, and it comes out more cheerfully than he intended. "I’m not going anywhere."

Abed looks away, blinking, and twists the cotton of his sleeve between his fingers absently. It seems like he’s thinking, so Jeff doesn’t interrupt.

After a few long moments, Abed does speak, looking at Jeff with a half-smile far more genuine than Jeff’s own.

"Thanks, Jeff." He says, and takes a deep breath. He frowns, just a little, then. "Do you mind if I stay here for a while?" He asks. "Annie worries about me while I’m there."

Abed doesn’t say it cruelly, but Jeff understands. The depth of Annie’s caring can go so far that her anxiety translates into tension for anybody near her. Jeff nods.

"Sure, Abed."  


End file.
